


Annual Rescue

by MsMiaMimi (Mc_Mimi)



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Camping, F/M, Found Family, M/M, Minor Violence, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22098226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mc_Mimi/pseuds/MsMiaMimi
Summary: Jaskier's life had gotten quiet and boring after he parted ways with Witcher.  But recently, he ran into scrape after scrape.  As if DESTINY was trying to throw them back together.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 19
Kudos: 240





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *cries* IT’S 4AM on the THIRD DAY of 2020 and I’m breaking my 1st resolution for no new fics and no new fandoms.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *edited 2-21-20 Thank you, Isabella!!

Escaping the maws of a lecherous old man of questionable health should not involve so much running. Jaskier is a little concerned that he may in fact be slowing down, while his grizzly pursuer only seems to get closer and closer. There’s some stumbling and tripping on his part, but it can’t be helped. The ground is rough and rocky and he’s barefoot. And naked. The old bear of a man has him at a terrible disadvantage.

“You lying sack of shit!”

“Yes, love you too!” He keeps on running as fast as possible hoping to catch a lucky break before he’s caught and his neck is broken. Or worst.

“I paid for you! I paid you!”

Jaskier takes offense. He has been _many_ things, and traveling on the road requires some versatility. But he is a man of exacting standards. The whole evening has been one big misunderstanding, namely that he was paid for services, and he thought he rendered services. Only to come out of his bath, with his new employer expecting _extra_ services. It just wasn’t fair. And he would stop and confront the man about it, but again, he’s at a terrible disadvantage.

After suffering any number of scratches, cuts, and bruises, he spots some light from a fire. They’re far away from the Inn and hopefully closer to safety. Some strangers that won’t side with the old bastard or accost him further. “Hello!” He calls out, “Please, anyone!”

A young fair-haired boy climbs out of a tent carrying an ax. He stares with wide eyes before squeaking, “It’s not for me!” And runs back inside.

“It’s not for me either,” says Jaskier while bounding into the campsite and running headfirst into the tent.

It’s bigger on the inside. And in its center is a pair of large four-post beds. On top of one is a witch he never, ever wanted to see again. He stops to catch his breath, hands on his hips. “Well fuck. I just can’t win tonight!”

The child drops the ax and he thinks it’s a blessing. Then the brat takes up a heavy-looking log and swings it.

Jaskier falls, thinking, of course, Yennefer would keep murderous little imps in her employ. That’s just the kind of night he’s having. Everything goes black, and he hopes he never sees the old man again.

* * *

Jaskier wakes up, face to face with the scary old bear. They’ve been tied to a tree. He’s still quite naked and the old man has a bleeding head wound. There’s no mirror to confirm, but he assumes they match. 

The child from earlier is hovering nearby, but in the morning light, Jaskier realizes it’s a young girl. He rolls his eyes, “The witch’s apprentice. Do they sign you lot up with a cauldron of your very own?”

“I’m not a witch.” The child frowns, “I’m a Witcher.”

Jaskier huffs out a laugh, “What…”

“Ciri. My name is Ciri. Are you the bard? Yen says to wait and make sure you’re not a dopplar.” She pulls out a silver knife. “I have a problem with them following me about.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He doesn’t think he has the strength to defend himself. Even against a child with a dull knife. _Especially_ against a child with a dull knife. “Please. Get Yennefer. We’re old friends. I’m not a monster. I’m just… unfortunately pretty. And this big ugly monster wouldn't take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“I see.”

“Please just let me go. And give me a shirt or something. I won’t bother you two. I want nothing to do with magic ever again.”

Ciri considers him for a long moment before suddenly smiling, “Sing the song.”

Jaskier blinks, “What song?”

“The song. You know. The one I keep hearing about. They do toss coins sometimes. It’s been ever so helpful.” She walks up to Jaskier and gently lays the hilt of the knife on his arm, “Ah. Not a monster after all. But are you a bard? Sing the song.”

Jaskier sighs, “Yes. Fine. Ahem…”

“Ah, shit.”

“I know that exasperation!” Jaskier strains his neck to look back. And sure enough, there in the early morning light is Geralt of Rivia. Hand in hand with Yennefer and stylishly wearing a wild boar slung over his shoulder. Jaskier stammers, “I can explain being here in such a state if someone would just please cut me down.”

The girl doesn’t hesitate to slash the ropes with practiced ease. It’s very off-putting. Jaskier stumbles away from her, the tree, and his former pursuer. 

Geralt looks up at the sky and shakes his head, “I suppose I was overdue for a run-in with you, bard.” He drops his prize and heads for the tent while Yennefer smirks and drops a bag loosely tied to his lute. “It’s like an annual ritual at this point.”

“Is that my things?”

“Found them at the Inn," says Yennefer. "You left in quite the hurry, didn’t you?” She looks at the man on the ground, “Slept with his wife?”

“He’s not the marrying sort,” frowns Jaskier. “Thank you, I think. I hardly had any time to think.”

“It’s never been your strong suit.” She holds out her hand, “Come along Ciri, darling. Practice by the river. I’m sure they've got a lot to catch up on. He’s your papa’s friend.”

The girl goes, flipping her knife from hand to hand, “I wanted to hear the song.”

“Oh god no,” says Geralt.

It’s all a lot to take in. Jaskier scurries over to his bag and quickly dresses. He's just cursing the scratches on his prized instrument while trying to get on his shoes when everything slots into place. He gets up in a hurry and rushes into the tent, “Did that child call you Papa?”

Geralt rolls his eyes, “No. Yennefer did. It’s a thing. She’s just teasing.”

Jaskier grins and runs over to Geralt, unable to stop himself. He hugs the fearsome Witcher and laughs. “You did it! You found the child of surprise! I knew it! I knew you'd do the right thing!”

Geralt suffers through the sudden affection with his usual grace, and for an added bonus even claps Jaskier hard on the back. “You exposed yourself to that child.”

“Not intentionally!” He ignores Geralt’s huffing and squeezes him tighter. “I have missed you, my dear garrotter.”

There’s another hard clap before he’s roughly shoved to the side. “That’s enough. Make yourself useful. We were about to break camp.”

Jaskier blinks, “Wait. Are we going somewhere? There’s something like a war going on just south of here I think and then… is that really the Princess of Cintra?”

“She rather not be called that.” Geralt moves to a heavy trunk and shoves in the whole animal he dragged in. “I’m taking her to Kaer Morhen.”

“Are you serious?” Jaskier stands there with his mouth gaping but Geralt keeps moving about, packing things away inside the magical tent. “You want to train a princess… a little girl to kill monsters? How in the world… Why would you think that’s a good idea?”

“It’s her idea.”

“And you listen whenever a little cherub squawks about trekking up into magical lairs?”

“Hm.”

“No! Don’t you ‘hm’ me, mister. Whole sentences. I deserve that much.”

Geralt frowns, “You sound very entitled.” He squares his ridiculously broad shoulders and stands toe to toe with Jaskier.”

Jaskier is about art and love and self-preservation. So he’s not sure what drives him to defy his own fear and act contrary. “Yes! I am! It was my idea to seek her out. To go to the banquet. It’s as you said before! Everything is my doing, remember! I’m owed a percentage of this… whatever this is!”

Geralt gives him a small grin. “Fine.”

“Wait, what? Is that it?”

“Come with us. Ciri has seen enough death and tragedy to last several lifetimes. But she’s safe now. Still, she is lacking in entertainment, and I am not a funny man.”

“Oh. Wait, what? Are you bringing me along to play with the Princess? I’m not some jester! I’m certified! I’m an artist! I’m brilliant!”

“Your pants are backward!”

“My pants are where I like them!”

The tent is suddenly filled with chirping laughter and Jaskier looks down at the young woman that’s pointing and laughing at him. Yennefer slinks in like an eel and gives him a crooked smile. “Surely, you jest.”

Ciri laughs harder, “Do the song!” 

“No!” Screams all the adults in unison.

Jaskier is not a singing mood.


	2. Chapter 2

There has to be a story here, thinks Jaskier. There’s a lot to take in and not much time to do so. He decides to just roll with it, as usual. Whenever Jaskier encounters Geralt, he finds himself swept up in the flow of things that may or may not be his fault. This is definitely not his fault. He’s still not clear on what happened when they finish packing up the campsite. Geralt allowed them to eat a little dried meat and drink some water before walking off with his horse on a lead. Yennefer tied the old man back up to the tree, just because. Jaskier promised to write a letter to the inn’s barmaid and let her know where to find him. But he can’t be sure he’ll find a good messenger, and really he’s not worried about that promise.

An hour of trekking later, Jaskier walks just behind the young woman dressed in boys’ clothes, a witch that once enslaved a whole town, and his infamous Witcher. There really must be some reason they all ended up on the long path, avoiding Sodden and the soldiers. There must be heroics and chance meetings, and something that rhymes with naïve. But only because he already has a spectacular melody in his head, he just needs the words. And something that rhymes with naïve. 

His companions are a quiet bunch, and if he were tolerant of that sort of thing, he’d let the silence persist. But he’s not. Just as he’s about to open his mouth to begin questioning the little trio, Geralt raises his hand and halts everyone.

“Listen.”

Yennefer looks around, “I don’t hear anything.” Jaskier would concur. The silence was _so_ creepy. He was about to tell a few embarrassing stories to lighten the mood. The mood is in the murky place that often comes with impending danger.

Ciri stands just behind Geralt, with her little silver knife out, “He’s right. Listen. There’s no more birdsong. Is it a predator? A monster?” She looks up at him hopefully, “No, not a monster. A changed creature?”

Geralt tilts his head and shuts his eyes. His nose flares with one deep breath. “Rotting flesh.” He opens his eyes smiles and at Ciri. “Very good, Princess.”

She blushes and holds her knife up higher, “Then we’re fighting?”

That would be Jaskier’s cue. He takes a safe position beside Roach, knowing that nothing will ever live long enough to get close to Geralt’s oldest friend. And really, he’d prefer it if the child followed him. “You can’t be serious. You can’t put a little girl on the frontlines of a monster fight, Geralt. I doubt that’s what her parents wanted when you were entrusted.”

Yennefer ignores them all and walks off into the trees without a word. Jaskier starts to call out for her, but Ciri beats him to it. “Yennefer, wait! I need the practice!”

There’s a loud wail and the ground shakes underfoot. Geralt never even bothers to unsheathe his swords. He simply holds out a hand for Ciri to guide her up a hilly path, “You can practice fighting stances after dinner. Let Yen handle this. It’s dangerous if you’re bitten by one of these creatures.”

“Like you were?”

“Yes, like I was, “says Geralt while rolling his eyes. “My blood is too slow for any venom or curse to kill me outright. So, I was saved. You wouldn’t be so lucky, Princess.”

The girl huffs out her disappointment, “Don’t call me that." She the opposite blushing with praise now, arms crossed and stomping ahead. "And don’t underestimate me. I’ve already made up my mind. I’m choosing a different path.” She waits for Jaskier to catch up while grinning. “Will you tell me a story? Has the Great Witcher ever lost a fight?”

Jaskier fumbles to get his lute around, “Absolutely!” He starts to clear his throat, ready to sing now at the fair girl’s request. He doesn’t waver, even with Geralt glaring like he can’t wait to snap Jaskier in half. It’s no matter because Jaskier isn’t one to turn down a request from a beautiful woman. He sings,

**_“Oo-ooh, a goat-man with a handful of white hair, oh daring fellow…”_ **

“Oh shut up,” says Yennefer while breathlessly returning from a portal. She corrects her errant hair and dusts off her torn dress, “Next time, let her run headfirst into the fray. A few scars will give her character.” 

She walks ahead of them all with a scowl on her face.

Jaskier rolls his eyes, “What’s crawled up her leggings?”

Ciri grins, “He slowed down.”

“So?”

“So, we just heard a long tirade about keeping up a good pace. And then you showed up. And he slowed down.” She smirks while looking up at Jaskier through her lashes, “I suppose he thinks we have to go easy on you.”

If he were some plow-headed brigand, his pride would have suffered. But he’s not. Jaskier is soft and decidedly anti-sweat. “How considerate! I’ve always said as much. We’re best friends, you know. He used to say that I could sing angels to sleep.” Jaskier boasts and boasts. It’s just teasing, but Geralt doesn’t try to correct him. He lets them walk on slowly while the sun rises to the middle of the sky. 

Jaskier realizes some time later, while the princess is laughing at his expense, that he’s served his purpose. She’s too young to have such dark shadows under her eyes. He strums on his lute and walks forward giving the odd glance ahead at Geralt’s shoulders. They look… stupidly wide, as usual. But also relaxed. Like a man not worried about boring a princess.

After so long of trekking uphill, Geralt calls for a brief break. Just long enough to eat some lunch and gather more supplies. Without a word, Yennefer pitches her magical tent and disappears into it. Ciri takes up a long stick and practices stances while Geralt sees to feeding Roach. He looks at Jaskier’s pack, “You weren’t carrying much.”

“I never do,” says Jaskier quickly. “Just the essentials.” He settles on a log and goes through his things. His memoirs in progress, his songbook, his quills. He’s happy to still have them. But he pouts, “My doublets.”

“What was that?”

Jaskier empties the bag on the ground and sighs. “My new ones. Shiny. Gold and blue. Very shiny.” He pouts, “Are there any townships this way up the mountain?”

Geralt rolls his eyes, “You don’t suggest we detour so you can go shopping.” He points at the bag. “I don’t see any money with your things.”

Jaskier grins, “That’s what the song is for! _Oh! Toss a Coin to your Witcher, oh valley of plenty---_ ”

Ciri rushes over sits at his feet, “Is that it! Oh please, start from the beginning! I want to hear it all!”

“No,” says Geralt, “Not while I’m in earshot.” He pats her on the head and gets up, “I’ll be back. Don’t encourage him.”

“Too late,” says Jaskier taking out his book. “I’m inspired! What rhymes with naïve?”

* * *

The rest of the day is strangely familiar. Jaskier is not sure what he expected. Just the other day he had struggled to come up with enough coin to sleep indoors. And now he’s outside with his best friend and his new little protégé. He didn’t approve at first, but he’s been watching Ciri. And she’s a surprisingly capable little sprite. She follows directions from Yennefer dutifully and asks Geralt question after question. And he doesn’t just grunt in her general direction, he answers! It’s been a wild day for revelations. 

They settle down in a quiet clearing that has just enough cover from being seen from the main path they’re following. Jaskier busies himself with helping prepare dinner after watching Ciri learn to skin the hind end of the boar. He smiles, “I can’t do anything bigger than a rabbit. I haven't the nerve. Especially when my dinner is cute.”

The girl splits the skin and pulls hard like she’s undressing the pig. “I first learned to skin a rat! My friend Dara taught me. He’s an elf.” She looks melancholy for a moment before brightening, “And Yen says all magic draws from life. I realize now, it's like that about everything. I can’t be afraid to take care of myself. I might be left alone again… so I have to be stronger.” She skewers the meat to put over the fire, “We still have a few stops to make before going to Kaer Morhen. And I have a lot to learn about defending myself. I can’t rely on a magic I can barely control.”

Jaskier is impressed with her wisdom, “Well said. I admire your forward-thinking.” He wants to pat her on her cute little head. But he holds back, sensing it wouldn’t do either of them any good. He settles for patting her shoulder with an approving smile.

“And I really want to learn how to gut the man that killed my grandmother." She looks up at him with a serious line on her fair brow, "He deserves it.”

Jaskier grimaces, “Let me just be clear. You are a little bit terrifying.” He grins, “Your grandmother would be proud.”

Ciri laughs, “That was not my intention, sir.”

“Of course not. You're too young for intentions. I know a song about a lady with terrible intentions from your family’s court. You might know this one,” he starts strumming quickly, “Lalala-Lalala! Annika is a lying, spying, whoring, boring, cheating, pile of refuse, O!”

Ciri erupts into laughter and claps along, “You wrote that? The maids have been singing it since before I was born. Everyone knows it…” She freezes up. “Everyone knew it. It’s all gone now. Even mean old Lady Annika.”

Jaskier is not sure what to say. 

This time he does pat Ciri on the head. And she seems fine with it. He offers up an encouraging smile anyway before continuing, “La-lady Annika is a lying, spying, thieving, scheming, cheating, pile of refuse!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to try asking for Beta readers this year, and I'm starting with this story ^_^ 
> 
> [This is the google doc](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xXoSOuSiE8M9AlZrp0XOwCq9B-JgIzV68bu6ariCVXE/edit?usp=sharing) link to beta read upcoming chapters before I post them. I'll try and wait a few hours before posting in the future, so following it means you get a sneak preview before I submit to ao3.
> 
> Any edits kept will be noted and added to co-authors ^_^!!


	3. Chapter 3

The moon rises and Jaskier yawns dramatically, back creaking with his well-hidden age. He flops against a log and watches the others move about before thinking out loud, “Where am I sleeping?” He eyes the tent hopefully but gives up on it when Yen gives him a dangerous-looking smirk. He rather keep all his bits to himself.

Ciri is up and following the older woman, but answers, “I suppose you get to sleep with Geralt. He insists on building a lean-to and giving us some privacy. I want to take a bath tonight, anyway.” It’s the most ‘princess’ thing he’s heard from her, thinks Jaskier. She doesn’t even bother to ask if Jaskier may want a bath. 

“Well. That’s that, then?”

Geralt shrugs in answer before getting up and building his quick shelter near the edge of the camp. He’s even further from the road and half-hidden under a boulder and fallen tree. 

Jaskier follows while moaning, “Couldn’t she witch-up another tent? And a bathtub. With hot water. And fragrant oils. And maybe a little…”

“Or,” says Geralt while settling on one side of a familiar blanket. “You can invite yourself inside and sleep on their flooring. She’d love that.”

Jaskier’s face twists, “Wouldn’t she just!” He collapses on the ground. Perhaps no one would know it, looking at them, but this isn’t his first time he’s been invited to the Witcher’s makeshift bed. He isn't hesitant to shuck his boots and wrap his arms around the fearsome man. “I wouldn’t give her satisfaction. This is fine.” He looks through his lashes, “I missed this. I missed hanging on to you and knowing the stars could all wink out but you’d still be there to protect me from the dark.”

“Is this the start of a song?”

“It could be. Oh…”

Geralt claps a hand over Jaskier’s mouth but he’s not shy about pulling him closer. “Don’t bother. Just go to sleep. We still have a lot to do. Things would be quicker if we weren’t avoiding an invading army, but here we are.”

“And just to be clear, we can’t deviate at all?”

“No.”

“Not even a day? I was already headed to a market. Now I’m really in need. Unless you plan on supporting my future journeys?”

“Hell no.”

“Well, then. I need the money. And the things. We can go quietly and pop back out before anyone even knows…”

“You sing.”

“Well yes. That is my profession.” Jaskier wiggles closer wraps his hands in front of Geralt’s shirt. “And you love it, don’t you?”

Geralt pretends to ignore him and stays on subject, “A show can draw attention that we can’t afford at this point.”

“But I can’t afford  _ anything _ ! I’m broke!”

“Ahem,” says a clicking tongue at their feet.

Yennefer rolls her eyes, “You’re going to keep the girl up. I thought it best to wet the water.” She’s wearing a ridiculously knowing smirk as she throws a bottle at Jaskier’s chest. “Get it over with, and out of your system. Then he’ll sleep like the dead and give us all some peace and quiet.”

Jaskier is not sure which of them she’s eager to shut up, but he takes offense. He sticks out his tongue but she just walks away laughing.

Geralt takes the bottle. “A lubricant?”

Yennefer laughs from a distance, “Oh, don’t pretend you don’t’ know how to use it!” 

Geralt gives the bottle back, “Perhaps later.” He turns to his side like the matter is over, he has spoken, so there it is. 

But that’s just stupid. Jaskier huffs, “As if I would wait around in the dirt for you to feel like buggering me so you can get some sleep!”

“Fine.”

“Don’t fine me! If I were so inclined, I would have your full attention!”

Geralt surprises him, turning to look Jaskier in the eyes and shutting him up with a soft smile. And then a gentle kiss. “You always have my full attention.”

“That’s a lie. I’m only optional, not pivotal, at this point.”

“You are comfortable.” He kisses Jaskier again, “You’re funny. You’re warm. You’re kind. You always smell nice.” He kisses Jaskier under the chin, “And I do like your company, Lord Julian.”

Hearing his name like that always gives him shivers. Jaskier curls into Geralt’s arms, “Well just the one time. I know how easily tired you are. And we want to satisfy the harpy by keeping  _ you _ quiet.”

“How considerate.”

* * *

The next morning Jaskier wakes up aching and sore and in serious need of a bath. And he doesn’t like the looks he keeps getting from the witch. Like she did him a favor or something. It’s insufferable. He says as much when they’re alone, watching Geralt and Ciri practice. 

“You don’t have to be so smug with loaning out your man for a night.”

“My man?” Yennefer looks genuinely confused, “Last I checked, wolves weren’t to be owned.” She gives Jaskier a sad half-smile. “Tamed wolves are just dogs, aren’t they. And he’s hardly that. I wouldn’t want a dog, anyway. Would you?”

Jaskier is not entirely sure of where she’s going. But he goes with it, “I wouldn’t mind a collar.”

Yennefer erupts in laughter holds her sides and walks away, shaking her head.

“What? What did I say that’s so funny?”

He doesn’t try to strike up another talk. They all settle for a comfortable routine. Breaking camp and walking again without incident. For about thirty minutes. Jaskier looks up at the sun and then at the trees and where he knows the road is supposed to be. “This is the way to market.”

Geralt sighs.

Jaskier crows in joy, “This is the way to the market!”

“One quick stop.”

“You two idiots can’t be serious.” Yennefer stops and crosses her arms, planting her fearsome little feet in the ground, “How is that hiding? Do you have any idea who’s looking for us?”

Geralt shrugs, “There’ll be scouts tracking for an errant princess and a famous witch. Not a Witcher-in-training and traveling bard. You and I will stay in hiding and keep an eye on the perimeter until they’re done.”

Jaskier gestures between himself and Ciri, “And what about us? What if you can’t reach us in time?”

Yennefer sighs and hands over a short sword to Ciri, “Then I suppose it’s time for something more than practice. Think of it as a game. Keep the bard from getting his assed kicked by every man in that village. I’ll even reward you for avoiding danger or defending him.”

Ciri ears prick up in a worrying way, excited for reasons Jaskier doesn’t want to think possible.

Then Yennefer continues, “Ah-ah, but no cheating. Don’t start any fights or throw him into danger, just to get him out of it.”

The girl snaps her fingers, “Ohh, bad knuckles.”

Jaskier crosses his hands over his heart, “You wouldn’t?”

Geralt shrugs again, “Well it’s in the terms.”

Jaskier gasps, “You cad! You are polluting this poor innocent child! The both of you, wicked creatures!” He takes Ciri by the hand, “I won’t tolerate it. Come here, Princess. We’ll go into the market and we’ll both be perfectly safe. And won’t tempt any danger, will we?” He nods, answering his own question. “We’ll make some new friends, sing a few songs, and buy a new suit worthy of my fine name.” He stops and looks her up and down, “…and you too.”

Ciri rolls her eyes, “I’m comfortable like this. I don't need a dress.”

“I didn’t say dress, I said suit. And something that will make you look smart. You don’t want to be like Geralt, all dull and boring and predictably monothematic. You want color and variance, and new experiences, don’t you?”

“I want to evade capture.”

“Yes, that too.”

* * *

They make it into the center of the market without being harassed. There are not many folks to mill around, and no one seems to recognize the uncrowned heir of Cintra. Not while she struts ahead of him like a proper bodyguard, exuding the sort of menace that would make her demented grandmother proud. And Geralt. Honestly, Geralt’s probably up in the trees nodding with approval while she clears a wide path to a tailor’s hut.

“In and out, then,” says Ciri. “We should worry more about buying supplies. Perhaps some seasonings.” She looks up with her nose scrunched up like a baby rabbit, “For the meats.”

“You can say it, child.” Jaskier grins and whispers, “For Geralt’s cooking.”

She bursts into light tinkling laughter and Jaskier lifts like a flower turning to sunshine. He endeavors to hear the sound again and starts strumming idly on his lute.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think there was an elven curse on his lovely lute. They start attracting a following of unsavory characters and Jaskier tries to charm and smiles his way out of any trouble. He turns back to the growing crowd. “Yes, yes. I can see you are all people of exquisite taste! Any requests?”

“Shut the fuck up,” says the largest, smelliest man up in front. “And hand over all your coin, boy.”

Jaskier is momentarily flattered, “Why, thank you! But really, I’m probably old enough to be your father.” He squints at the man, “Wait, what’s your mother's name?”

The men all growl and Big Stinky steps closer with a raised fist.

Ciri smirks and steps before Jaskier, strangely happy for a child wielding a needle-thin sword at a bunch of ruffians. “Finally.”

“No! Put that away,” Jaskier raises his hands and stands between the men and Geralt’s initiate. “And you, sir, please. Don’t provoke this one!”

The men all laugh and the big one points, “I’m not scared of some walking reed. What’s he gonna do? Cry home for his momma?”

Ciri takes up a familiar and stance Jaskier sighs. He looks at the men and shakes his head, “Oh, well that’s it. He’s made up his mind. Have you any last words, gentlemen.” The men all laugh again, but they don’t rush and attack. Which is good. Jaskier rolls with it, “You see, gentleman. Being the son of a wealthy man and looking for a grand adventure, I was assured only the best possible protection.” He gestures to Ciri, “May I introduce, The Prodigy. The one and only. Famed student of the White Wolf himself. Already twice as deadly as his master. You needn’t believe me. I’ve paid well in advance for my own protection. If you choose to give this murderous child some sport, well. There’s nothing I can do about it. Just please, try not to bleed on my new things. I’ll write yet  _ another _ song about how big men were cut down by this small and adorable monster. The local women will certainly get a kick out of my next song.” He turns his back to enter the shop and pretends to ignore the scene. Leaving Ciri was a gamble. He finds a metal prong and arms himself, ready to go back out and defend her if need be. But the men start to slowly disperse, muttering about cursed Witchers and their devil children.

Ciri follows him inside, “That was a risk. How’d you know they run tail?”

“I didn’t, but I had faith that together, we could take them all.” He grins strums his lute for emphasis. “You are after all The Prodigy. Deadly, silent, adorable…”

Ciri shoves him, “You can leave that part out.”

“ _ Adorable _ !” He sings higher, “ _ And I’ll bet every last coin, that you are a winner!” _

The tailor covers his ears, “Enough of that, if you two have business here, get to it and get going. I hate the sound of bad music. And the look of this girl.” He clicks his tongue, “What business have you to dress like a lad?”

Ciri crosses her hand, “I do what I please. Now attend my lord.” She smirks, “He’s paid me quite handsomely for my protection. And I’m sure, there’s still more to spend.”

The old man grins, “Oh yes! Yes, my lord!” He hobbles off to the back of his shop to fetch his kits.

Ciri eyes the displays and grabs several of them and tosses the bundle to Jaskier, “There. New fancy things. Let’s go!” She runs out the door and leaves Jaskier stuttering behind her.

“Wait, wait! I didn’t plan on committing any crime today!”

Ciri grins over her shoulder, “Well, I did.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes, “I just know your grandfather is happy to hear that in his grave.”


End file.
